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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051376">Becoming</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritchalien/pseuds/eldritchalien'>eldritchalien</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon atypical self awareness, Character Study, Eventual sexual content likely, F/F, Getting to Know Each Other, Goin ham with the headcanons for how fear feels to avatars, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Missing Scene, No beta we die like archival assistants, Slow Burn, canon-typical identity issues, season 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:27:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritchalien/pseuds/eldritchalien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen discovers that she is not the only monster lady haunting the tunnels below the institute...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Not Sasha James/Helen Richardson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set nebulously during Jon's coma or in early/mid season 4.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was on her door's third return to the tunnels that it happened. </p>
<p>Helen had just successfully lured a uni student into her maddening hallways, and was waiting for the wide-eyed girl to realize she had not, in fact, entered the wrong dormitory. This part sometimes took a while, longer if the victim was intoxicated in some way; given that she'd found the girl taking shrooms, it would be a while before any true terror could set in. Helen, always one for practicality, decided to return her door to the archive tunnels as she waited for her meal.</p>
<p>The tunnels did not often change, but Helen could never resist having a look in case they had undergone any renovation or even -gasp- redecoration. She opened the door with a long creak. Stepping out into the cool, musty obscurity, she was disappointed to find it exactly as she had left it. Elias really ought to freshen things up down here, add in some carpeting, maybe open up the floor plan a bit-</p>
<p>Helen froze. </p>
<p>She was not alone in these tunnels.</p>
<p>Two eyes shone at her from out of the dim half-light. They were not the eyes of an animal, but neither were they human. Helen met its gaze, but it made no move to flee or attack. It did not even blink. Helen got the feeling it was waiting to see what she would do.</p>
<p>Two could play at this game. Helen remained still, watching, trying to gather information about whatever was in front of her. </p>
<p>It felt... wrong. Like the more she tried to understand what she was seeing, the less it made sense. A flash of worry shot through her. She was the throat of delusion incarnate, lies made manifest; how was it possible for deception herself to be deceived? Unless…</p>
<p>“I do not know you,” she stated. </p>
<p>The creature moved closer, and Helen could now see that it had taken the appearance of a young woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a pretty smattering of freckles across her upturned nose. Her face seemed uncannily familiar, but then that was always the way with the Stranger, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>The creature grinned, clearly enjoying Helen’s confusion. “Don’t you, though?”</p>
<p>Helen narrowed her eyes. Whatever the other was playing at, she did not want any part of it. The Spiral held no real animosity towards the Stranger - after all, they had a lot in common - but the Stranger had never been fond of the way the Spiral could see right through its disguises. Just like the way Michael had seen through the disguise of one of the Archivist’s “assistants,” years ago. Just like… oh.</p><p>“Now that you mention it, maybe I do,” said Helen. She glanced at the creature’s clothing, noting the torn, filthy state of her sweater and high-waisted jeans. The thing must have been in these tunnels for ages.  
</p><p>“The Archivist finally caught on to your little game, did he? Took him long enough.”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha scowled. “What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>Helen laughed, peals rippling out and echoing off the dripping tunnel walls. “I thought I’d pop in and see what was new.”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha did not reply, just looked at her. Helen was used to unsettling stares - hell, she was a generous distributor of them herself - but this seemed less menacing and more hungry. Clearly it was difficult to find victims to terrorize when one was trapped in nightmarish tunnels. </p>
<p>“How are the Archives these days? It’s been a while.” Reminding a starving monster of its previous feeding grounds was not exactly kind, but then again, neither was Helen anymore.</p>
<p>Not!Sasha’s face twisted up quite satisfyingly. “You tell me.” </p>
<p>“I only ask because- ah-aaah,” Helen gasped, caught off guard by the first pang of true terror emanating from the student in her corridors. It felt wonderful. </p>
<p>Not!Sasha glowered. “Having fun?”</p>
<p>Helen only smiled as another wave of fear-induced pleasure washed over her. “Quite,” she breathed. </p>
<p>The glint of hunger in Not!Sasha’s eyes was unmistakable now. She began to move towards Helen, and while Helen knew that the creature would not be able to feed on her per se, there was no accounting for what it might do when consumed by envy and rage. </p>
<p>“Well, lovely as it has been meeting you again,” Helen began as she backed towards the yellow door, “I’m afraid I’m late for… hm… supper, as it were.” </p>
<p>Not!Sasha stopped her pursuit as its futility seemed to sink in. She said nothing. </p>
<p>“Cheerio!” Helen grinned before closing her door behind her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Three weeks later (or three months? Days? Units of time were not very compatible with madness itself) Helen heard a knock at her door. It was the door that was currently parked in the tunnels, she realized with interest. Did the archival staff need help with another monster? Was it a human who had gotten trapped in the tunnels and was searching in the wrong places for a way out? Oh, she hoped it would be that one. </p>
<p>The yellow door creaked open, and Helen found herself face to face not with a human, but with something wearing a human’s face.</p>
<p>Helen’s surprise gave way to a wide grin. “Well well, what a surprise! What brings you to me today?”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha did not return the smile. “I wanted to talk to you.”</p>
<p>“Uh-oh! Last time I said that to someone, I ended up stabbing them.” She flashed her sharp fingers. </p>
<p>Not!Sasha smirked at the memory of Jon’s pained cry, attempting to hide a nervous glance at Helen’s display. (Helen really didn’t understand why nobody understood the futility of lying to the Distortion, but she thought it cute that they tried.) “I wasn’t planning to stab you.”</p>
<p>“How kind of you.” Helen gestured inside her door. “Would you like to come in?”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha did not even bother to look at the swirling, maddening interior before shaking her head. “I have no interest in being your next meal.”</p>
<p>“Oh, come now,” protested Helen. “Why would I eat an honored guest?”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha did not dignify the question with a response. Instead, she slid down the wall of the tunnel and sat. Helen stared at her, noticing how small and tired she looked, and stood waiting for her to broach the conversation. </p>
<p>“Do- do you remember being her?” said Not!Sasha at last. What a silly question.</p>
<p>“Of course I-”</p>
<p>“I didn’t ask if you just had her memories. I mean, do you remember what it feels like to be… whoever it is that you’re wearing?”</p>
<p>“I’m not wearing anyone,” Helen said. “But her- my- name was- is- Helen Richardson.”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha did not answer. Introductions understandably did not interest an entity called the Stranger.</p>
<p>Helen pondered the question. “I do remember being her. But it feels… distant, sometimes, like it happened in a dream.”</p><p>Not!Sasha hummed and said nothing. Instead, she stared off into space, her form wobbling a bit at the edges like a reflection in disturbed water. For a few moments at a time she would appear perfectly human, and then she would wince and shift into something vague and unknowable. Helen smiled, pleased by the maddening spectacle before her.</p>
<p>“Stop watching,” muttered Not!Sasha when she looked up. </p>
<p>Helen only smiled wider. “I’m afraid you’ve come to rather the wrong place if you didn’t want to be Seen.”</p>
<p>“I want to be seen, but I want people to be terrified by what they see. You’re not.” </p>
<p>“Then why did you knock on my door?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t- I-” Not!Sasha heaved a sigh. “Just leave.”</p>
<p>“As you like.” Helen moved back towards her door, opened it, and then paused before she entered. “Don’t be a stranger!”</p>
<p>The Stranger's scoff was drowned out by the creak of the door and the retreating echoes of the Distortion's laugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deep purple was a good color. Somber enough that you could believe it meant well, but unusual enough to throw you off balance a little. Make you doubt yourself. </p>
<p>"Hmm, or how about neon green?" wondered Helen as she contemplated the wallpaper in her corridors. Not that it was truly wallpaper, or that what humans conceived of as "color" even existed in this dimension, but what kind of real estate agent wouldn't ensure the place remained in ship-shape?</p>
<p>Whatever the color of the wallpaper, it looked fabulous. Everything looked fabulous. So much so that Helen stopped to contemplate what had brought upon such a good mood, all of a sudden. She hadn't taken anyone recently, but even so it felt as though her hunger were being slowly sated by some special dread. </p>
<p>Closing her eyes, Helen tried to pinpoint the source. The fear tasted fresh and bitter, a flavor she had never encountered before. It seemed to be emanating from nearby - the London metro, or the Archive tunnels, perhaps? She couldn’t be sure but she moved through the corridors to find the door regardless, opening it in the faint hope that she might find - </p>
<p>Not!Sasha. Curled up against one of the dripping tunnel walls, head in her hands. "I think I might be going mad." </p>
<p>Helen's eyes glittered, but she kept her voice low and measured. "So I've noticed."</p>
<p>"Did you know it's a myth that I erase all memory of the people I take?" </p>
<p>"I-"</p>
<p>"Yes, I know, aside from the one person I allow to see through it." She paused to brush hair out of her face, looking more human than Helen had ever seen her. "The point is… I remember them. All their memories get jammed inside my head the moment I've replaced them."</p>
<p>“Hm,” Helen said, closing the door behind her in the assumption she would be there a while. </p>
<p>"I've tried so many things to get rid of the surge of- of information, but the only way I can forget one victim is to move onto the next." </p>
<p>“And you can’t do that here,” Helen concluded. “You’re stuck with all that Sasha floating around in your head, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha nodded miserably. “I’ve spent months alone with her thoughts, and it’s even beginning to change the way I see things. The other day I caught myself thinking about Tim and Martin, but... not about how afraid they were. Just about a time that we - they? - went out for karaoke and drinks.”</p>
<p>In Not!Sasha’s words Helen heard echoes of the same bemusement she faced regularly. Bemusement Michael had faced. In fact, never in the many millennia that this particular manifestation of the Distortion had existed had its avatar fully understood their relationship to the human they used to be. There were always doubts; mangling, twisting, deranging doubts. It ought to be expected, really. What would be the purpose of confidence in the embodiment of paralyzing uncertainty? </p>
<p>“Hmm… speaking of memories that aren’t necessarily one’s own, I don’t suppose you have any recollection of meeting me- er, Michael- a few years back?”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha looked up at Helen for the first time in the exchange, as if to compare her mental image against what stood in front of her. “She thought you were a creep.”</p>
<p>A smile spread across Helen’s face again. “Isn’t that rather the point?”</p>
<p>“You said the point was to help the Archives. It… reassured Sasha, a bit.”</p>
<p>“My goodness, you have begun to identify with her,” Helen said, tilting her head in fascination.</p>
<p>“That would imply I feel reassured by you now.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you?”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha exhaled deeply and buried her head in her arms once more. “I don’t know what I feel. Or who it is that’s doing the feeling, or why.”</p>
<p>Another crest of satisfaction surged over Helen as Not!Sasha’s fear reached her. Part of her wanted to push harder, to wrest as much terror as possible from this fresh source, but something stopped her. She felt another urge, also pushing her towards Not!Sasha, but not in an attempt to harm; rather, it pushed her to soothe, to comfort. It was an impulse she had not felt in a long time.</p>
<p>Helen approached Not!Sasha slowly. “May I sit?”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha looked up sharply, but then she sighed, as if she could not be bothered to be alarmed at Helen’s proximity. “If you like.”</p>
<p>Bending oneself to sit was difficult enough with a physical form, and Helen had never needed to even attempt to do so with… whatever form she now held. She was sure that regular sitting did not involve nearly as much twisting as she found herself doing, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. </p>
<p>“For what it’s worth, I am still trying to help the Archives,” Helen said.</p>
<p>“Sasha would appreciate that.”</p>
<p>“Do you?”</p>
<p>“I’m not used to appreciating anything besides, well, you know.”</p>
<p>“Helen Richardson was not used to luring people into a nightmare dimension, but we all change, don’t we?”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha was silent for a long moment. “I suppose we do.”</p>
<p>“As much as I would like to tell you that you’re becoming crazy, I think you’re simply…”</p>
<p>“Becoming.” Not!Sasha looked at Helen, green eyes soft, lips slowly curling up at the corners. She did not seem afraid, yet Helen felt a spark of enjoyment regardless. </p>
<p>She smiled back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Helen and Not!Sasha do some companionable brooding.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You know, I never thanked you,” said Helen, seated next to Not!Sasha on a garishly multicolored sofa she had brought on one of her last visits. </p>
<p>“For what?” </p>
<p>“When you replaced someone, there was always a moment where the target - you know, the one person who saw through it - was terrified that they were losing their mind. I always appreciated the snack.”</p>
<p>To Helen’s surprise, Not!Sasha winced.</p>
<p>“Oh come now, don’t tell me you’re so ungenerous as to begrudge me that,” Helen prodded.</p>
<p>Not!Sasha winced again, looking more human than she perhaps ever had. “It’s not that. It’s just…” She drummed her fingers on her thigh, clearly thinking how to phrase her next words. “Sasha thought it was wrong, to… to hurt people. To make them afraid.”</p>
<p>Helen remembered the way she had felt when she first took someone. Shame, confusion, awful satisfaction… “Ms. Richardson felt the same, once upon a time.”</p>
<p>“Sasha’s memories have been making me feel…” Not!Sasha paused, then gave a mirthless laugh. “I’ve never needed to understand human emotions before. What’s it called when you feel bad for something you’ve done?”</p>
<p>“Guilt.” </p>
<p>“Is that what guilt is? Interesting,” said Not!Sasha, though ‘interested’ was not the label Helen would have given her facial expression. “Then, Sasha’s memories have been making me feel guilty for killing all those people. She would have called me evil.”</p>
<p>“Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature?” Helen found herself saying, echoing the words of her predecessor. </p>
<p>“I -” Not!Sasha stopped to consider. “She wouldn’t have thought of it like that. She would have said ‘delighting in harm to others is evil.’” </p>
<p>“Whether or not you delight in it,” Helen replied slowly, “the harm is the only thing that sustains you. Might as well embrace it.”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha was silent for a long moment. “I’ve been trapped in these tunnels for- I don’t even know how long. No victims, no fear… yet here I am.”</p>
<p>“You’re hungry.”</p>
<p>“But I’m alive. That means I don’t need fear as much as I thought.” </p>
<p>Even though it had not been very long since the fateful day Helen became the Spiral, she could no longer imagine going without her doses of sweet trepidation. She’d tried to resist, at first, pacing up and down her corridors, going everywhere and nowhere in order to prevent herself from making sure a human never went anywhere again. Once, she had even crashed a party in hopes of absorbing some secondhand dread from the drug-addled ravers without needing to harm anyone. None of it had worked. No matter how guilty she felt, Helen found herself putting her door in places where someone was bound to open it. No matter how much she wished each time to be the last time, she could not seem to resist the intoxicating pull of someone who feared that their world was not right. She could spot their terror like a thread torn loose from a garment, and despite the doubts gnawing at her conscience, she always found herself tugging on that thread until it unraveled the person completely. Maybe she wouldn’t die without it, but she had never made it close enough to know. </p>
<p>Not!Sasha shoved a playful hand at Helen, startling her out of her reverie. “I’m supposed to be the one brooding here,” Not!Sasha laughed. “Stop it.” </p>
<p>“Why don’t you make me?” The words slid out before Helen realized the potential implications, almost like Not!Sasha had pulled them out from her on a string. In another life, she may have been embarrassed, but well, she had learned not to feel bad about one kind of unraveling, so why not another?</p>
<p>A look of surprise flickered over NotSasha’s face, replaced by one of cautious curiosity. “How do you propose I do that?”</p>
<p>Now Helen was curious too: curious to see how the other would take her words. “How would you like to?”</p>
<p>Not!Sasha regarded Helen, her facial features gone blurry for the first time in a while, like the question somehow cast doubt on what was left of her identity. Did she even know what she wanted? If so, did she know whether it was her or Sasha doing the wanting? Her face reflected the questions that must be raging inside her. For the briefest of moments, she would sport Sasha’s distinctive keen eyes and round nose, but then the impression would fade back into obscurity, gliding indistinctly into a thousand faces in a row or all at once. If she wore any expression, Helen could not tell quite what.</p>
<p>Helen supposed in another life she would have felt awkward or even afraid at her companion’s amorphous silence, especially following such a charged conversation. However, now it did not bother her in the least. In fact, Not!Sasha’s current state inspired in her an unexpected sensation: comfort. Perhaps ironically, it felt as though Not!Sasha were granting Helen a glimpse of who she truly was (or was not, or could never be), and it struck Helen that she felt safe being who she truly was (or was not, or could never be). She noticed that her own fragilely constructed human facade had relaxed into a looser, more distorted form, and the realization brought a smile to her vague approximation of a face. </p>
<p>Thus the two remained for a while, seated on the kitchy couch, respectively oscillating and twisting in thoughtful, companionable quiet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love taking liberties with both their characters. I mean, what else is fanfic for?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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